The Fear
by maxiana-x
Summary: “Just don’t think,” She pleaded. Her breath was hot and sweet on his face. She took his hand in hers and placed his palm on her cheek, covering it with her own hand. “Don’t think, Simon.” Simon x Isabelle


A/N:This is an extension of the brilliant Simon x Isabelle scene in City of Glass, after Max dies. I wrote it forever ago, like a few days after the book came out. I absolutely _love_ these two (I don't even know why!), and the books are amazing. I can honestly say it's one of my favorite series.

I wasn't even going to post this (it was more for myself than anything), but there isn't enough love out there for these two.

Credit to Cassandra Clare for the first 15 lines or so. And the characters, and everything else. Duh. XD

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**The Fear**

"Come here."

"What?"

Isabelle beckoned imperiously with her index finger. "Come _here_ Simon."

Reluctantly he came toward her. He was barely a foot away when she seized him by the front of his shirt, yanking him toward her. Their faces were inches apart; he could see how the skin below her eyes shone with the marks of recent tears. "You know what I really need right now?" She said, enunciating each word clearly.

"Um," Simon said. "No?"

"To be distracted," she said, and with a half turn yanked him bodily onto the bed beside her.

He landed on his back amid a tangled pile of clothes. "Isabelle," Simon protested weakly, "do you really think this is going to make you feel any better?"

"Trust me," Isabelle said, placing a hand on his chest, just over his unbeating heart. "I feel better already."

She kissed him then, so suddenly he didn't have time to react. Her lips crashed down on his, salty with the remnants of tears and he reached up, tangling his hand in her mass of black hair. Isabelle's hands travelled down his chest and tugged restlessly at the bottom of his t-shirt.

"Simon," she breathed as she swung her leg over his torso, straddling him between her thighs. "I need you."

"Isabelle," Simon's voice was deep and unsteady as she brought her face back down, hovering it just inches above his own. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the heat of her body on his. "Isabelle, we can't-"

"Who says?" Isabelle interrupted, kissing the corner of his mouth. Simon groaned involuntarily and Isabelle smirked. "You're not taking advantage of me," she continued, reading his mind. "I promise. Now shut up and kiss me."

"Isabelle," he repeated. His voice was stronger now; clearer. He untangled his hand from her hair and sat up. "We can't."

Isabelle landed on the mattress beside him in a graceful heap, and Simon took a deep, unnecessary breath. She was a beautiful mess; her wild black hair falling everywhere, the thin strap of her nightgown slipping down the side of her arm. She looked up at him, her eyes filling with fresh tears.

"Hey, Iz-"

"Don't." She unfolded her long, slender legs and stood up, covering her face with her hands and turning away from him. "God, I don't know what's wrong with me."

"I do," Simon said carefully. "Isabelle, your little brother just died."

"I know." She took a deep breath and held it, visibly choking back a sob. "I just – I miss him, Simon."

"And that's okay." Simon reassured her. "But you have to stop blaming yourself. It isn't your fault. You have to understand that."

Isabelle shook her head but stayed silent. Simon moved soundlessly to the edge of the bed, waiting.

"Just go then," She said finally, her voice cold. "Go run home to Clary... or Maia. Or whoever it is you're falling all over this week."

"I'm not going anywhere." Simon ignored the jab and stood up, taking a step toward her and then another. "At least not until I know you're okay."

"Then you better make yourself comfortable," she turned and jumped, startled by his close proximity. "Because – well, I'm not sure I'm going to be okay ever again."

"That's not true." Simon stopped breathing. How had he gotten so close?

"Prove it." Isabelle whispered. "Show me."

"How?" Simon cleared his throat as she took a step forward, completely closing the space between them. He noticed without wanting to how clear and unguarded her eyes were. How had he never noticed them before?

"Just don't think," She pleaded. Her breath was hot and sweet on his face. She took his hand in hers and placed his palm on her cheek, covering it with her own hand. "Don't think, Simon."

And this time when she kissed him, he didn't stop her. He didn't think about it when she pulled his t-shirt over his head. He didn't think about it when they fell back down onto the mattress, tangled in one another. He just felt.

And for the first time in a long time, it felt good.

--

Isabelle awoke with a start, a shrill scream echoing in her ears.

_Max,_ she thought breathlessly. _Max, Max._

"Isabelle?"

She turned toward the unfamiliar voice and blinked into the dark room, the panic her chest intensifying. "Where is he? I need to find-"

And then the last month hit her like a brick, knocking every ounce of air from her lungs.

Clary. Simon. Downworlders. Valentine. Sebastian. Max.

_Max was dead. _

"N-no," she stammered, and she felt tears welling up behind her eyes. "No no no."

"Isabelle," She was vaguely aware of someone calling her name, but it sounded far away; too far. "Isabelle, it's okay. It's just me. It's just Simon."

Isabelle felt a hand on her bare shoulder as she pulled the sheet around herself. She turned toward him and fell into his arms, crying like she hadn't cried in years.

And even though it was absolutely impossible for Isabelle Lightwood to feel _good _in that moment, she did feel safe.

And that was better than nothing.

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A/N: Review, please? Also, please love these two as much as I do and write them (and then send me the link). Thanks. XD


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